


The First Rule of the Con

by ChronicBookworm



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Hustle
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Con Artists, Crossover, Gen, Misunderstandings, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 05:57:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21294674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChronicBookworm/pseuds/ChronicBookworm
Summary: The Hustle crew try to run a con on The Watchers’ Council. It doesn’t quite go as planned.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	The First Rule of the Con

**Author's Note:**

> You probably don’t need to know Hustle to follow this. All you need to know is they are a group of con artists who target rich and greedy people. Think Leverage, but with less gadgets.

Spring 2006

“Our new mark,” Albie told the crew, sitting in the comfortable sofas of Mickey’s hotel room, waiting to be briefed, “is Rupert Giles, who belongs to an organisation called the Watcher’s Council. Just inherited all of it, in fact, after a bombing that took out their headquarters and entire top leadership. Now, I’ve had my eye on this group for quite some time, they’re a nasty organisation. What they do is they take young girls, isolate them, and make them believe they are one of the potential ‘Chosen Ones’ to fight vampires, demons, and other assorted mythical creatures. These girls are brought up with the hope that they might one day be ‘the Chosen One’, one girl in all the world to fulfil a mystical destiny as something called a Slayer.”

He projected an image on Rupert on the television, a middle-aged man in a tweed suit, who looked quite unremarkable in every way.

“Demons and vampires? Are these guys for real?” Danny burst in with, grabbing a fistful of peanuts and crunching them loudly between his teeth where he was sprawled on the sofa. Stacie rolled her eyes and tried to shift further away from him without him noticing.

“Apparently so. Some of them also genuinely believe it.”

“Do they believe in the tooth fairy as well?” was Ash’s contribution.

“I almost feel bad for the gullible marks,” Mickey said. “Takes the fun out of it.”

“Oh, these people aren’t gullible,” Albie corrected him. “They just have a different worldview than the rest of us. Outside of that, they’re as gullible or suspicious as anyone else.”

“So what happens to the others,” Stacie wondered. “The ones that aren’t ‘Chosen’?”

“Once they reach a certain age and haven’t been ‘Chosen’, they’re cut adrift. Some of them join the Council as Watchers or associates; some of them wash their hands of the whole thing and walk away. That’s how I first found out about them – I met one of the disappointed ones back in the early nineties. I’ve been waiting for an opportunity ever since, and now I think I’ve finally got one.”

“So what’s our way in?” Mickey asked.

“Through Mr Giles himself, here,” he gestured to the photo of Rupert Giles, “head of the ‘new’ Watcher’s Council. Rupert’s family is an old established family within the organisation, but he himself was a bit of an outsider, had what is euphemistically called a ‘troubled youth’. After an incident which led to the death of one of his ‘gang’ – details of which are obscured, but nobody was charged – he cleaned up his act and returned to the fold with his tail between his legs. In the mid-90s, he was sent to America, took a position as a school librarian, and recruited a young girl to ‘Watch’.”

He paused to let the implications of that sentence sink in. Stacie felt vaguely ill, and only the thought of the justice they would deliver on him kept her from suggesting they phone the police – and she was someone who usually wanted the police kept as far away as possible!

“But for some reason, she was older than the others usually are, and he never managed to isolate her from her friends. Here’s a photo we managed to find of the ‘After-school mythology club’ – most of the documents from that time were destroyed in the Sunnydale Earthquake, but Ash’s miraculous abilities managed to dig up an old yearbook that the mythology club featured in. As we can see from the photo, she obviously brought her friends into it, and he probably had to allow it or lose her, which, given he was already in a precarious position with the Council leadership and exiled to the USA, he wouldn’t have wanted.”

The photo portrayed Mr Giles and four adolescents seated at a table in the library, two girls and two boys. They were all smiling and seemed at ease. It was an odd collection of people – a librarian in tweed, a girl in a fluffy pink jumper that clashed with her red hair, another girl with perfectly coiffed blonde hair dressed in what Stacie recongised as high fashion ten years ago when the photo had probably been taken, revealing far more skin than the first girl, a boy with blue hair and some kind of band t-shirt – possibly a punk – and a boy with a Hawaiian shirt who seemed to have rolled out of bed without doing anything about his hair or clothes – not the usual collection of friends you’d find in an American High School. Nor, indeed, the most likely suspects for a mythology club – maybe with the exception of Miss Fluffy Jumper.

“After a few years he was fired from the Council, maybe because he failed to isolate her and had to let her friends in on the so-called ‘secret’,” Albie continued. “He was then rehired two years later, brought back to England, and a few months later, took his ‘Potential’ with him, one Willow Rosenberg, possibly thinking that he could finally isolate her from her friends so he could have a proper ‘Potential’. However, she slipped his fingers, and left shortly after to go back to America.

“He then spent a year flying back and forth to see her, and started taking young girls with him to leave with her, presumably for training. It was around this time that many Watchers started dying under mysterious circumstances, so it’s possible that they were trying to consolidate what was left of the organisation. He clearly had no compunctions about leaving young, vulnerable girls with Rosenberg and her friends, so at this point, we should assume that Willow Rosenberg, and probably many of the others, are thoroughly brainwashed, and likely won’t welcome our interference.”

“So what was he doing with all those girls, then?” Ash wondered. “Sex trafficking?”

“I don’t think so,” Albie replied. “They seem just to be brainwashed into the cult. Apart from the inherent dodginess of an old man surrounded by younger women, I don’t actually think there’s anything indecent going on between them.”

“Well, that’s something, at least,” said Ash.

“Oh, it’s okay to steal and brainwash girls, as long as you don’t shag them?” Stacie asked with a raised eyebrow.

“That’s not what I said!”

“Children, please,” Mickey interrupted. “Albie, please continue.”

“So, as I was saying, the Watcher’s Council was bombed in an alleged terrorist attack last year, which nobody took credit for, leaving Mr Giles in charge. Since then, they’ve located new premises her in London, and are trying to build up again.”

“Do we think he did it?” asked Mickey.

“He was in the air, flying back to London from Singapore at the time. It’s possible he arranged it from a distance, but it’s unlikely. It’s more likely he just saw an opportunity to make a power grab and took it. Now he’s shaking things up quite a bit, reorganising the structure of the organisation. Where previously they’d had one Watcher to one Potential, they now seem to have gathered several girls in one place, and last year they set up a school in London and one in Cleveland. So it seems like they’re trying to expand, not just rebuild.”

“So what’s he like, then, this Rupert Giles?” Ash asked.

“Well, he does a lot of work, and spends a lot of time with the inner circle, which seems to be Rosenberg and her high school friends.” He gestured to the same photograph of the after-school mythology club. “No significant other, only a few friends of his own age. He’s well spoken, highly educated, and has one major interest: second-hand books.”

“Seems fitting for a high school librarian,” Stacie commented. “Still not massively keen on the part where he surrounds himself with girls young enough they could be his daughters.”

“Ah, but if you look at the photo, he’s got two lads with him as well,” Danny said.

“That’s not a huge comfort, actually.”

“So, he’s an outsider, looked down on by the rest of the Council, who’s now taken over the organisation,” Mickey concluded. “We need to give him something better than they had before, something that proves everybody who came before him wrong. We’re changing the known history, and he can be one to discover it. Ash, how well-versed are you in vampire lore?”

“Give me a day and I’ll have something for you,” Ash said. You could always count on Ash.

*

They roped Mr Giles at a three-day antique book fair. As usual, Albert did the roping. Giles was shadowed by several young women in their mid- to late teens, though none of them were “his” potential, Willow Rosenberg, although he had brought Willow’s best friend’s younger sister, Dawn Summers. The rest of the girls changed between the days – perhaps he was sowing jealousy among the group by so clearly favouring Summers junior over Rosenberg? Summers seemed to be in her element, discussing books with Giles, hopping from one seller to another, whereas the other girls seemed mostly bored and like they were there out of a sense of obligation or duty. What was it in Giles that could inspire such loyalty among them? From what Albert had seen, he was not an incredibly inspiring man, although he did show a generally friendly demeanour, and a discerning eye for detail. But those weren’t that unusual, and they weren’t exactly the qualities that would most appeal to a group of teenage girls. He had a feeling that until they figured that out, they would be at a disadvantage – and he knew how much Mickey hated being at a disadvantage. He just had to hope that interaction with the man would prove to be more illuminating.

He approached a stall as he saw Giles finish up at the stall next door.

“Do you also buy books?” he asked the seller with his voice slightly raised. “I know a young fellow who’s cleaning out his bookshelves, and has what he’s fairly certain is an original treatise on vampire lore from the late 19th century, which he thinks could be valuable. He’s having it verified, of course, but I’m here to scope out interested parties to sell it to.”

“Sorry, mate,” the seller responded, exactly as he’d been paid to do. “I only work with sources I trust, and I don’t have my own verifier on hand. Also, 19th century vampire lore? Not a huge crowd for that.”

“Oh, you never know. That Twilight book all the young ones are raving about has brought vampires back into fashion, you know,” Albert said. “Still, my friend would prefer if it went to someone who could appreciate it properly. He’s a bit of a bibliophile.”

“Better luck somewhere else, then,” said the seller with finality.

Albert turned to leave, and predictably found Mr Giles with his entourage of bored teenage girls waiting for him.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help overhearing. 19th century vampire lore, you said? Depending on what it is, we might be interested in buying.”

“Well, this is my lucky day,” Albert said. “Why don’t we sit down and have a chat? My treat. John Newbury,” he introduced himself and shook Mr Giles’ hand.

“Oh, no, that’s very kind of you, but it won’t be necessary. You haven’t seen how these young hooligans eat; they would clean you right out. We have discretionary funds to cover these kinds of things. I’m Rupert Giles, and these are my associates Dawn Summers, Violet Day, Shannon Wilcher, and Caridad Ramirez.”

“I think I could manage,” Albert said, “after all, you’d be doing me a great favour if you took this manuscript off Gareth’s hands.”

They settled in to have a friendly chat over coffee. The three girls apart from Dawn Summers took the table next to theirs, and although their conversation seemed to be discussing recent plot developments in a TV show that they all followed, Albert could see that there was always at least one girl paying attention to their table, and none of them had relaxed fully into their chairs.

“So, tell me about this book,” Giles said, stirring his tea.

“Well, as I said, it belongs to a very good friend of mine, Gareth Fallchurch, who is a keen collector books – but he’s in financial difficulties, and since this book is one of the oldest in his collection, and apparently a very rare print of only 20 copies ever made, he decided to very reluctantly part with it. He is a little desperate, so you could probably get quite a good deal out of it. Not that I told you that, of course,” he said with a conspiratorial wink. Hopefully, that would get Giles interested - the trick to any good con was to get the mark’s greed to work against him, and make him almost rope himself for you. Make him think he was the one pulling one over on you.

Giles ignored the last part, and the wink.

“Well, that does sound promising. You said the book was on vampires?”

“Yes, it was written during the Dracula craze – the poor author was convinced vampires were real, claimed to have had an encounter with one himself, before being saved by a so-called ‘Chosen One’, a young girl, and ever since then, he was determined to find the truth about vampires. Quite delusional, of course.”

He stopped there. While he thought he’d driven the point home, it wouldn’t do to overdo it.

“But I’m terribly rude to dominate the conversation like this. Why don’t you tell me about yourselves? I take it you have an interest in vampire lore?”

“Yes, we are members of the Watchers Council – perhaps you’ve heard of us?”

Albert let his face fall.

“Oh dear.”

“Is there a problem?” Summers asked. The young women at the other table straightened up a bit, and although they didn’t stop their conversation, he saw all of them were tracking him with their eyes. They were trying to appear casual, but doing a rather poor job of it, he was afraid.

“Well, Gareth did have some contact with the Watchers Council before, and unfortunately they left him with… rather a bad impression. They seemed to think he was beneath their notice, and I’m afraid it left rather a bad taste in his mouth. I’m worry he might not be too keen to sell to you, if he hears who you are.”

Dawn and Giles made a face at each other. Well, Dawn made a face at Giles, and Giles frowned vaguely in her direction.

“Yeah, the old Council were pretty dickish,” Dawn said. “To put it mildly. But we’re the new and improved version. 99% fewer stuffed windbags.”

“I take it that one remaining per cent is a dig at me?” Giles said with good humour. “But Dawn is right, we have made substantial improvements to the running of the Council, and I believe we’ve also made substantial improvements to our attitudes. You and Gareth would be welcome to come to our home in London to see for yourself. Any time before dark would suit.”

Albert agreed to this, and for some reason, it made the young women relax, and Summers and Giles seemed very pleased. He supposed it should make him feel at ease that the con was working, but there was something he was missing, and it bothered him that he couldn’t work out what it was.

*

The Watchers Council were housed in a large Victorian building on the outskirts of London, surrounded by beautiful parkland. They’d taken part of the gardens and turned them into a large obstacle course, and when Mickey and Albie arrived, there were several young women running it, displaying almost unbelievable acrobatic feats. Whatever the Watchers Council did to train its “Chosen Ones”, it was clearly working.

They rang the doorbell, and a young woman opened the door.

“Hello, John Newbury and Gareth Fallchurch to see Rupert Giles,” Albie presented them, and handed over a card with his customary charm.

“Sure,” said the young woman, appearing totally indifferent. “I’ll see if he’s free.”

She left the door open, and they took the unspoken invitation to step in. There were more young women in the foyer, and at least one of them was tracking them with her eyes at all times. Medieval weaponry was hung up to decorate the walls. Overall, it gave a somewhat less than welcoming impression.

“Giles says he’ll see you now,” the first young woman said.

Giles was joined by Buffy and Dawn Summers, just as Albie had warned them he might be. Once again, Willow Rosenberg was absent. It made Mickey uneasy. Was there something more they had missed? From their understanding, Rosenberg should be the main feature, Giles’ key to the organisation. Was he hiding her way somewhere? Keeping her safe? Was she just a figurehead, and the Summers girls actually in charge of running the operation? What was it they were missing? He was confident in his ability to adapt to changes on the fly, but part of that was because he’d put in the prep work and had contingencies in place. The con was always at its most vulnerable early on, before he had all the game pieces sorted out.

After another round of introductions, they sat down to discuss.

“Mr Newbury says you had a manuscript you were looking to sell,” Giles prompted.

“Yes, I do. I must say, I’m surprised we even got this far,” Mickey said, putting on the affected tones of Gareth Fallchurch, amateur bibliophile. “You predecessors wouldn’t even admit me through the door. I do hope you will be more amenable.”

“Well, I certainly hope you’ll find us easier to work with,” Giles said.

“Hard not to, really,” said the blonde Buffy. “Given the old Council’s… general everything.”

That they went to such great lengths to separate themselves from the old Council was very interesting, and definitely something to work with, Mickey thought.

“So, tell us about this book of yours,” the brunette Dawn said.

“Well, as I believe John mentioned, it’s a treatise on vampire lore from the mid- to late 19th century. It’s particularly notable for the new information it sheds on the mythical group of vampires known as the Whirlwind, especially William the Bloody.”

Dawn and Buffy exchanged glances, Dawn with a gleam in her eyes and Buffy with a half-smile. Giles mouth also twitched, but he brought his face back into impassivity quickly.

“A book written about Spike?” Dawn said, and Mickey thanked Ash’s careful briefing about the “history” he was selling. Although it was interesting that they went with the more informal Spike, rather than the official William the Bloody. “I know who that’d make a great gift for.”

“It would also make a rather appropriate addition to our no longer quite so extensive library collection,” Giles said.

“Has anyone ever told you that you have no concept of fun?” Buffy asked. Giles smiled slightly.

“I believe it has been mentioned once or twice, yes.”

“So, you would be interested in this book,” Mickey asked, putting just enough of a hopeful note in his voice. “I will warn you, I have had interest from another buyer, although if possible, I would much rather sell to you, as I believe you would have more use of it. He’s… not the kind to appreciate books for their intrinsic value.”

“Well, we definitely appreciate books here,” said Buffy. “We are all about the book-loving.”

“At least some of us,” Dawn said, with a significant look at her sister.

“Perhaps you would like to come to mine to examine the book?” Mickey prodded gently.

“Oh, absolutely. Dawn and I will be very happy to come.”

“And me,” said Buffy.

“I would rather spare you the boredom of looking at an old book for possibly hours,” Giles said. “I don’t think you would find it interesting.”

“I don’t care,” said Buffy. “You know what the doctor said about your concussions – you’re getting me as a bodyguard. Or Spike. Or Faith. Or possibly all of us.”

Mickey noted the name – it struck him as somewhat odd that someone working for an organisation supposedly dedicated to fighting vampires would pick a moniker based on one of the most infamous vampires (because surely Spike couldn’t be his given name?). Maybe it had some sort of meaning.

“Well, I guess that’s me told, then,” said Giles with a wry smile. “I hope it won’t be a bother to have four or more of us around?”

“Not at all, it would be a genuine pleasure,” Mickey said, and meant it. “Might I enquire – Spike is something of an odd name for a vampire hunter, is it a nickname inspired by William the Bloody?”

“You could say that, yeah,” said Dawn.

They exchanged amused glances, and he knew there was something he was missing. He hated it when there was something he was missing.

*

The initial stage of the con over, they were fairly certain they had the mark hooked, but it bothered Ash that they didn’t know more about them. He could tell that it bothered Albie, Stacie and Mickey, too, in the tenseness they displayed when updating the team. Danny didn’t seem fussed, but Danny was Danny.

“I’ve got the book ready to go,” Ash said. “It should stand up to visual inspection and the chemical tests that can be administered on site, but nothing that needs lab verification, so let’s hope they don’t insist on that. I also didn’t find anything on this current Spike fellow you told me about. You’re gonna have to give me more than a nickname if you want results.”

“We can’t, unfortunately,” Mickey said. “I think this con might lean more on the adapt side of the learn – plan – adapt process. What we’ve learnt so far is that there is genuine fondness between Giles and his victims – they don’t seem afraid of him in any way, they tease him and boss him around as if he were a favoured uncle. Although what we saw is probably the inner circle. The Judas goats, so to speak. We haven’t seen any signs of illegal activity so far, except the multitude of mediaeval weaponry they keep.”

“Ah, no, actually, I checked that out, and they’re all legit,” Ash had to tell them. “Got permits and everything.”

“You had time to hack into the registry as well as get the book counterfeited?” Danny wondered.

“What can I say? I’m very good,” Ash said, with a fake modest shrug. He did like it when the others appreciated him – he sometimes thought that they took his skills for granted, and he really was one of the best fixers in the business.

“So, we probably can’t do anything about the organisation,” Mickey said, “unless we frame them, which will take more time and knowledge that we don’t have at the moment. Given that we all feel like there’s something major missing, I feel like we should keep the plan as simple as possible, so there’s more room to manoeuvre if things go wrong.”

“We should expose them somehow,” Stacie objected. “We can’t let them carry on like this.”

“We’re not philanthropists, we’re con artists,” Danny said. “Them being horrible people just makes it easier to take all their money.”

“We keep Stacie’s plan in mind,” Mickey compromised. “Maybe we can do both.”

*

The Watcher’s Council showed up to the house they had commandeered for the con bang on time, at 7.30 pm exactly. It was early enough in the spring that it was still dark outside at that time, and he had wondered if they were going to be able to find it, but it seemed they’d had no problems.

They’d arranged for Stacie and Danny to arrive separately slightly later, so they weren’t there when the Council arrived, only Mickey was. There were four of them – Giles, Buffy, Dawn, and a blond man in a leather jacket. Mickey welcomed them in and took the coats of the ladies to hang up – Gareth Fallchurch was the kind of man who would do that sort of thing.

The blond had not yet come in, and Mickey wondered what was keeping him – he was letting the warmth out keeping the door open.

“I brought some more people, if that’s all right with you?” Giles said. “Is it okay if they come as well? You’ve met Buffy and Dawn, of course, and this is our colleague Spike.”

“Yes, of course, do come in,” Mickey said with Gareth Fallchurch’s affected tones. He allowed a tiny bit of impatience slip into his voice.

The blond, the mysterious Spike they hadn’t managed to find more information on, held up a hand to the door, almost as if he were a mime pretending he couldn’t get through thin air.

“Yeah, on second thought, I’m not feeling it,” he said. “I’ll stay outside.”

“Are you sure?” Mickey asked. “It’s quite cold, and you’re more than welcome to join us inside in the warmth.”

Spike felt the air in front of the door once more, then shook his head.

“I don’t usually get cold. I’ll be fine in the fresh air.”

He exchanged a significant look with Buffy, who in turn exchanged looks with Dawn and Giles, and not for the first time, Mickey felt like he had missed something incredibly important. If he got one more of those feelings, he thought, he’d extract himself gracefully and blow the whole thing off.

“This is a lovely place,” Buffy said. “Is it yours? How long have you lived here?”

“Oh, it’s not much, but yes, I’ve lived here about ten years now,” Mickey said about the rather plain house Ash had rustled up for Gareth Fallchurch.

“And you own the house?”

“I do,” he confirmed.

“Do you live on your own? _What?_” she added at Giles and Dawn’s quelling looks. “I’m bored, and I’m making small talk.”

She was a decent liar, but Mickey was one of the best, and he could spot a lie a mile off.

“You’re not making small talk,” Dawn said, putting on an air of exasperation that held just a trace of fakeness. Like her sister, she probably would have fooled an average person. “You’re interrogating the man. Do excuse my sister – she has no manners. Perhaps we can talk about the book?”

The whole exchange was set up to sound natural, to make him not think that much more about Buffy’s pointed questions, and he almost admired them for it. Almost.

He considered blowing the whole thing off, but they’d come too far for that. Besides, he wasn’t sure Stacie would forgive him if he did. She’d taken it to heart, the plight of the innocent girls lured in by the organisation, and why shouldn’t she? They clearly needed to be taken down a peg or two.

“Well, I’m waiting for another buyer and the expert to arrive,” Mickey said, just as the doorbell rang, and he opened the door for Stacie. She introduced herself, but said nothing about any man in the front yard, or made any sign to Mickey that there was anything amiss. He wondered where that Spike had gotten to. It made him nervous, not having everything under control.

“Spike is an odd name,” Mickey probed. “Is it homage to William the Bloody himself?”

“Something like that,” Buffy said, with an indecipherable expression. Mickey cursed himself – he should have waited until Danny was here, neither his nor Stacie’s personas were the kind who could pry without sparking suspicion, whereas Danny was supposed to be unmannered and obnoxious. Silence descended upon them as they waited. Mickey could, of course, break the silence easily. If he wanted to, he could dominate the room, make conversation flow easily, establish rapport between himself and the marks with a blink of an eyelid. But that was as Mickey Bricks. Gareth Fallchurch, however, was an awkward fellow, and so Mickey allowed the silence to grow until it was uncomfortable.

Danny was, as agreed, thirty five minutes late, and sauntered in as though he didn’t have a care in the world. All the players were gathered, and they could move on to the next stage of the con.

Mickey presented the book, and Stacie took over as Elizabeth Wright, historian and evaluator. Dawn and Giles gathered in to watch the book closely, while Buffy leaned back against the wall and crossed her arms.

“This book has been dated to 1878, and there are no known other examples in the world,” Stacie said. “It’s referred to in Wainwright’s Vampires, and thought completely lost to the annals of history, until now. This discovery is nothing short of a marvel!”

“It’s certainly a magnificent example,” Giles said, looking over the leather cover.

“Yeah, it’s a bit of all right, innit?” said Danny. “It would make the living room look well posh.”

Danny had apparently decided to make his character as obnoxious as possible – at least he was playing to his strengths.

“May we have a closer look?” Giles asked.

“Certainly – but be careful,” Mickey said.

“Oh, Dawn knows how to handle rare and valuable books, she’s not her sister.”

“Hey!” Buffy objected. Neither Dawn nor Giles paid her much attention.

Dawn got out a cloth and carefully wiped her hands down.

“So, I know there’s some controversy about gloves and old books, but I hope you don’t mind if I take a look at some of the pages? I promise my hands are clean,” she said. At Mickey’s assent, she began to very carefully turn the pages and narrating what she found for the rest. “It’s got three pages on Angelus, mostly correct. Then one page each on Darla and Drusilla, both riddled with inaccuracies, I guess because the author didn’t care about them as much.”

Ash was not going to be pleased he heard about the inaccuracies – Mickey considered not telling him, but knew that if he didn’t, Danny certainly would, in the most obnoxious fashion possible. Better to do it with a bit of finesse.

“It’s nothing egregious, just a repetition of the common interpretation of the times – one-note characterisations of Drusilla the waif and Darla the seductress, as if Dru wasn’t both capable of acting on her own desires and Darla wasn’t the one who kept the Whirlwind together once Angel did his ‘woe is me, I must atone’ thing when he got his soul back. There’s also a drawing, dripping in the male gaze.”

“Historical sexism is the worst,” Stacie said.

“Amen, sister,” said Buffy.

Dawn turned another page.

“Here, look, it’s got a whole four pages on William the Bloody aka Spike – rumours about a newly turned vampire, known to roam with the Whirlwind, and the story about the railway spikes.” She turned a few more pages. “Hmm. The other stuff is fairly uninspiring. They’ve got the Whirlwind family tree, which is a nice touch. Angelus Sired by the Master and Spike Sired by Angelus, of course, because God forbid women had agency.”

Stacie and Buffy shared a look of understanding. Mickey was glad to see glad Stacie establish rapport with the marks, but really, did they have to pick on the guys all the time?

“And this book was from 1878, you said?” Giles asked.

“Absolutely,” Stacie said. “It’s been dated not just looking at date in the book, I used several validation methods, including looking at typesetting, materials, author correspondence, historical references, printer receipts, and so on.”

“And you are _certain_ of this dating?” Giles persisted. Mickey loved the sound of a con coming together – Giles would of course know the implications of the year, and he would do most of the convincing himself, with only minimal prodding from Mickey and Stacie.

“Absolutely certain. The author died in 1879, this book was probably the last thing he ever wrote.”

“Oh bloody hell, what does it matter if it’s 1875 or 1880 or 1885? It’s like 200 years ago either way! The book’s old, we get it,” Danny said.

“128 years, actually,” Mickey corrected. When none of the marks stepped in, Stacie took up the dropped thread.

“And it matters because every other record has the first mention of William the Bloody at 1880,” she said.

“This could revolutionise what is known about the Whirlwind! All those other sources – wrong! This is a goldmine!” Mickey said to drive the point home further. Apparently they weren’t going to delude themselves, and needed him and Stacie to lead them by the hand to the obvious conclusions.

“I’m sure it is, Mr Fallchurch, but I think unfortunately our school is not in a position to buy this book – recent expenses being what they are,” Giles said.

That was fine. This was why they’d brought in Danny, in all his obnoxious glory.

“Aw, yeah!” he said, pumping the air. “That means I get it? I can just see it now, wide windows, letting the sun in, shining on the leatherback books!”

Mickey had to suppress a smile. That would certainly get the bibliophiles wincing.

Giles cleared his throat and took his glasses off his nose to clean them.

“Normally I wouldn’t recommend keeping old books in direct sunlight, but since this book is almost certainly not genuine, I dare say it won’t do any harm.”

Mickey could feel the floor opening up beneath the con. They were guessing. They had to be.

“Not genuine? I’ve had it dated in all possible ways, except carbon dating, and I would be willing to have that done, should you require it. I assure you, this is genuine.”

They might have to do a bit more work to get the book carbon dated, since Ash had specifically said it wouldn’t hold up to any lab tests, but without it, they’d lost the marks completely. They’d just have to adapt.

“No cigar,” said Buffy. She’d straightened up from where she was leaning against the wall, and uncrossed her arms. For all she was a tiny blonde, the action felt vaguely threatening. “We’re not going to waste money on a useless book that’s wrong about the most basic details.”

“You kinda picked the wrong con, there,” Dawn added. “Should have picked someone else as your example. The world’s leading expert on William the Bloody just happened to be my babysitter.”

“You’re trying to con us?” Danny demanded. “Who was going to be the genuine target? Me? Pick on the working class fellow, who wouldn’t know better? Or them? Get the school with money difficulties to shell out more than they can actually afford? I get it – you put together a fake old book, get two interested buyers, get them to bid against each other, driving the price up, and then whichever poor sucker falls for it, you win. You make me sick. People like you are what’s wrong with this country. Posh rich boys just trying to suck what they can from the rest of us.”

Mickey had to give him credit for at least sticking to what his character would know about his potential rivals – school, and money troubles. For all his faults, Danny was a great conman.

“And creating a false sense of urgency, giving us less time to look into your claims,” Buffy added.

Both Mickey and Stacie turned to her, surprised.

Buffy sighed.

“I get so tired of people thinking that because I’m blonde and don’t like books published before I was born, that I must be some kind of stupid.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it – they get us thinking I got to buy it now, or the rich tosser with the posse of hot chicks gets it,” Danny said. Mickey wasn’t quite sure what he was trying to rescue, since the con was blown wide open – probably just himself, which would be typical of Danny.

“I’d rather you didn’t talk about the girls that way,” said Giles mildly.

“Yeah? What you going to do about it? You gonna fight for their honour?” Danny challenged him. All three of the marks raised their eyebrows, which was an incredibly bad sign.

“We fight for our own honour, thank you very much. Also, for Giles’.” Buffy said, adopting a fighting stance. Not a faux-threatening one with arms raised, but the loose and easy stance of someone who really knew what they were doing and were prepared to act in a split second if they needed to. “You know, we’ve been talking about how historical sexism is bad, but actually, I’ve decided contemporary sexism is worse.”

“Don’t threaten me, I’m a victim here, same as you,” Danny objected.

“Hm. I’m not entirely convinced about that,” Giles said, still mildly. Mickey was starting to get annoyed by his air of a slightly bemused professor. He was clearly much more than that, and Mickey didn’t know who he thought he was fooling.

That was when a cry came from outside the house.

“Slayer! Could use some help here!”

Buffy rushed out, followed by Dawn and Giles, followed by Danny, Mickey and Stacie. There was a full-out brawl happening in the front yard of the house. Spike was currently holding off six people who looked like they were wearing ridged masks of some kind.

“Dawn, Giles, stay in the house,” Buffy commanded, drawing out what looked like a wooden stake (really?).

“Yeah, no,” Dawn said, but she still stopped in the doorway, blocking anyone else from going out.

“I really don’t want to have this argument. Squishy humans inside, now!” Buffy said, halfway down the steps.

“What do you mean squishy _human_?” Danny asked.

“I mean squishy humans who can’t take on a vampire in a fistfight and expect to win. That includes all of you, so stay inside!”

Buffy and Spike made six against two seem like unfair odds – to their opponents. They moved in perfect sync. One by one, their attackers disappeared – literally. Buffy shoved her stake into the chest on one, and it vanished in a puff of dust. Dawn shot at one with a crossbow, taken from Buffy’s duffel bag, and that one too disappeared. Spike shoved another one of the attackers onto Buffy’s stake, while Giles sniped a fourth with his crossbow, which he seemed to have conjured from goodness knew where.

Between them, it wasn’t many minutes until all attackers had been dispensed with.

“What the hell was that?” Danny wondered, giving voice to Mickey’s exact thoughts.

“That was a nest of vampires, out hunting. Too bad for them Spike was out here, guarding.”

“Those were real live vampires?” Danny said, his voice about an octave higher than usual. “You’re not having us on? If so, how come nobody knows about the vampires and all?”

“Well, you know how there was a hallucinogen in the water in LA last year at the same time as that freak solar eclipse?” Buffy asked.

“Yeah?” Danny replied, clearly not seeing where this was going.

“It’s amazing what some people will believe, really.”

“Yes, now you say it, it does seem a bit farfetched,” Mickey agreed weakly.

“And we put out a few fake theories, to muddy the waters and make people who figure out the truth sound like conspiracy nuts,” Dawn added.

“That’s rather clever,” Mickey said. “I couldn’t have done it better myself, really.”

This was true, and a higher compliment than he would usually pay a mark.

“Well, it was good meeting you, Mr Fallchurch, or whatever your name is, but we’ll just be going now, I think,” Dawn said.

That seemed like an excellent idea to Mickey – there was nothing to do in this situation but to cut their losses. After that display, he knew there was no way they could fight their way out (which Mickey absolutely hated to do in any case), and they were clearly out of their depth. Going their separate ways without the payoff but also without any major consequences was the best result he could have hoped for, really.

Then Danny opened his big mouth.

“Wait – you can’t just leave us like that! What if there are more?”

“That was probably all of them, but I’m really struggling to care about your safety, given you were trying to con us out of our money. It’s not like we need it, trying to set up a school for Slayers and revamping the entire system that keeps the world safe from demons, or anything,” Buffy said.

Mickey gave himself the luxury of closing his eyes for one second, then he entered damage control mode. They were far less likely to be generous now. They did seem like decent people, with the new knowledge he had gained. They were polite (more or less), willing to sacrifice themselves for the safety of others even if they didn’t like them very much, and Buffy and Dawn were clearly equals in the relationship with Giles, if not dominant. This was a time to appeal to their better nature. He caught Stacie’s eye, and she seemed to read his mind, as always. It would be better coming from her, who had throughout been an advocate for the girls, who genuinely cared about their wellbeing, and who had established a rapport as part of her character – let’s hope it carried over.

“We misunderstood, which we deeply apologise for,” she said. “You see, we thought the Watchers Council was an immoral organisation of old white men who kidnapped and brainwashed young girls. Obviously training people to fight vampires does seem less like cultish brainwashing when they actually fight vampires.”

“Yes, I can see how it might seem that way if you were missing salient parts of the truth,” Giles said. “The old Watcher’s Council was not always a savoury organisation. But it’s under new management now, and we are trying to make up for the deficits of our predecessors.”

“Yeah, we thought you were like, the bad guys! We thought we were the good guys. Our bad.”

Mickey closed his eyes and wished Danny would just have the sense to stop fucking talking sometimes.

“Spike? Make him stop talking please,” Dawn asked. Clearly he wasn’t the only one.

Spike moved within a blink, and grabbed Danny with an arm around his throat. Fangs appeared from his mouth. Danny stopped moving and let out a small whimper. Mickey didn’t want to think about what the nickname Spike might mean, in light of this being an actual, genuine, bona fide vampire. He really, really, didn’t want to connect the dots that were leaping at him to be connected.

“Conmen, meet the world’s leading expert on William the Bloody, aka Spike, aka William Pratt, who just happens to _be_ William the Bloody, aka Spike, aka William Pratt. Spike, meet the people who wanted to con us. You’re currently holding the lecher who was perving on Buffy,” Dawn said.

And there it was. The conclusion Mickey had been trying to avoid reaching ever since he had found out that vampires existed. The two dots he really had hoped not to have to connect. Fuck.

“I suggest you keep very, very quiet if you want to keep that nice tan you’ve got going there,” Spike growled.

Danny swallowed, bringing his neck closer to the fangs. They probably had been in worse situations, but Mickey struggled to think of any right now.

“So what happens now? You’ve clearly got us at a disadvantage,” Mickey asked.

The four members of the Watcher’s Council looked at each other.

“Just to let me get it clear,” Dawn said, “you wanted to sell us a fake manuscript for a lot of money, in cash, out of concern for us poor, innocent brainwashed girls? And making us pay a lot of money to you in this scam was entirely out of the goodness of your heart and would totally help us poor, innocent brainwashed girls in some way which I’m sure you will fill us in on any second now…?”

“Put that way, it doesn’t seem so altruistic,” Mickey had to concede.

“No kidding.”

“Well, we _are_ conmen. But it’s clear now that you are obviously no victims, and you can look after yourself, you do very good work. You are in no way deserving targets of our con, and we will make whatever apologies you feel you need. We made an honest mistake and will accept the consequences.”

“How very noble of you,” Buffy said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“So again, what now? Not that I’m not enjoying this illumination about the parts of the world I clearly had no idea about, but, I must admit, I’d rather stay as far away from anything vampire-like in the future, and I think Danny might be close to wetting himself there, and as obnoxious as he is, I do have some semblance of fondness for him.”

“Well, I think Dawn offered to let us both go our separate ways,” Giles said.

“No hard feelings, yeah?” Danny asked, perhaps to redeem himself after Mickey’s comment about wetting himself.

Spike tightened his hold.

“Okay, hard feelings, I get it, sorry, sorry,” Danny said. Spike’s fangs retreated as he pushed Danny away from him.

“I hope you’ve learnt a lesson,” Buffy said.

“Yes, most definitely,” Mickey said with feeling.

“Then not to be rude, but I hope I never see you again.”

The feeling was quite mutual. He just knew better than to say it.

*

Early spring 2012

Emma had a new mark for them. Mickey tried to encourage the others to bring marks in, so it wasn’t just him and Albie all the time. Emma and Sean were more proactive in finding marks than Stacie and Danny had been.

“So there’s this company that claims to run schools for girls, but seems to be a front for traders in dangerous historical weapons,” she said, and Mickey immediately felt something twist in his stomach. “The CEO is a fashionista; we could do something with that.”

She clicked the laser pointer, and a picture of Buffy Summers at a fashion show appeared on the screen. Mickey, Ash and Albie spoke in unison.

“No.”

“No bleeding way.”

“I believe going after Miss Summers would be extremely ill advised.”

Emma and Sean looked surprised at the vehemence of their reaction.

“Why, are they the mob or something?” Sean asked.

“No, the mob we can handle,” Mickey said. “These people are far worse. Forget you ever heard anything about them, especially her. You don’t want to get involved with any of their business, trust me.”

Mickey slashed the air in front of him for emphasis. That lesson was well and truly learned.

“These people are vindictive, vicious, and worst of all, they’re honest – their ethics might not always line up with those of us mere humans, but they have them, and they stick to them.”

It wasn’t often they ran up against honest people, but when they did, they could never forget the first rule of the con: you can’t con an honest man.


End file.
